Logan’s mouth drew into a tight line, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. “Cormac has many secrets, but he’s not a murderer. And as competent as he is as a seneschal, he’s a follower, not a leader. I can’t see him masterminding something like this. He is unswervingly loyal to Braedan. Unless Braedan ordered him to do this, he would not even consider it. As for where he was, I can’t say.”
Igraine reached for his hands again. “I will find out who did this. I will clear your name, I swear it. And I will not allow you to come to the court to confess. I will hold your case aside until I can learn what happened.”
He shook his head. “You can’t do that. I’ve confessed to two nobles and a seneschal. My life is forfeit. There is no recourse. You know the law. You’ve read every book and scroll in the castle. My confession will stand, and I must be executed.” His eyes were drawn and pained.
She stood, angry. “This is foolish. You would shame your king, shame your guard, shame your own family name for a lie? To be executed for something you didn’t do?”
He gave her a sad smile. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I don’t use my real name—I haven’t in years.” He stood. “Follow the law in this. Let me take the blame. Put the kirons and the sayas to rest, and let the kirok curse me.”
“This isn’t over. You may be resigned to this, but I’m not.”
“It’s too late. Kerry has already signed the execution papers. I’ll be dead by morning.”
She shook her head. “No, Logan—I’ll find you a way out of this. I swear it.”
***
Ronan agreed to see Igraine that afternoon. He sat at his desk with a goblet in one hand and a parchment in the other. He wore the indigo of his house with the gold sash of chancellor across his chest. He stood and beckoned her in. “My lady. Have a seat. What a delightful treat to see you outside of court.”
She let him seat her near his desk. “Lord Kerry—”
“Please, we’re to be relatives, highness. Call me your uncle. Or Ronan, if you prefer.” He sat behind his desk.
She smiled coolly. “Lord Kerry, we need to discuss Logan’s confession and trial.”
He spread his hands. “Of course, highness, but I don’t know what you would have me discuss. He’s confessed. The law is clear.” His voice held an edge. “And as you have pointed out, my lady, if the king and his agents do not follow the law, who will?”
Her stomach tightened. “His agents—such as his chancellor? I’m curious about something. Why would you want this position? Don’t you wish to return home to your wife and your holdings?”
He leaned back. “Have you ever been to Stone Coast? Nothing but rocks, gulls, and ice in the winter, and in the summer, we don’t even have ice to break the monotony. My inland holdings are green, at least, but little grows there except highland cattle, and that’s only because they thrive on the scrubby gorse.” He waved a hand around the room. “I prefer the amenities in Torlach. Politics, scandals, beautiful women . . .” His eyes drifted down her body.
She suppressed a shiver. “And has your wife given up on faithfulness, then?”
A cruel sneer tempted his mouth. “She never made me promise it. I see no reason to deny myself the company of a beautiful woman.” He steepled his hands near his chin. “Do you think you’ll get faithfulness from my nephew, highness? You’re fooling yourself. He’s king. He doesn’t need to ask. You can protect your little chambermaids all you want. They will still throw themselves at him for the chance to say they’ve fucked the king.”
You want to play vulgar? I can play vulgar. She leaned forward; his gaze flickered toward her breasts. “And you get his seconds? Is that what you’re hoping for? A turn with me?” She leaned back. “You’ll not get one.”
He laughed. “Shouldn’t I evaluate the woman my heir wishes to marry? Perhaps I could teach you something.”
“I doubt that.”
He stood and walked around the desk to loom over her. “Your friend, Logan. What is your relationship with him?”
She stood. I won’t be intimidated by this ass. “He’s a guard. A friend. And he’s never been anything but a proper gentleman.”
“That’s not what I heard. I heard that Logan had his hands all over you in the stables. According to a witness, your dress was around your waist and his breeches were down before you noticed his presence.”
Her heart raced. “Did Matthias tell you that? He saw us there when we came back from riding. Logan was helping me with my cloak, that’s all. Braedan knows all about it.”
“Truly? The only person to speak for you is a disgraced guard in prison for treason and murder.”
“And your only proof is the word of a man who tried to kill me and then fled.” She lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “What do you know about Logan? Why is he doing this? You know he didn’t commit this crime. Why would he confess to it?”
“The evidence points to him.”
“Hardly any evidence—a royal-issue blade and words of a foolish maid who runs to your bed every time I scold her.”
“And what I saw—your lover letting assassins out of the gate.” He paused. “Why would you share the bed of a man who kills those you were asked to protect?”
“I don’t share his bed. I am the Princess Royale of Eirya and the betrothed of King Braedan. I would not sully his name or mine by bedding a guard.”
Ronan folded his arms. “You really believe he loves you. How naïve are you? He sees your blood, your potential to give him an heir, your title—that’s all. He’ll give you faithfulness for a year, perhaps, and then you’ll squeeze out a son, and he’ll lose interest in you. You’ll get fat, and he’ll find some trim little tart to warm his bed. Igraine, I thought you were smarter than that.”
“I have no need to prove anything to you. Braedan’s faithfulness or lack of it is between me and him.”
“Your lover, Logan—”
“He’s not my lover.”
“Whatever he is, he’s a dead man. He’s confessed. There is no recourse.”
I have to find something—some proof of Logan’s innocence—but I have to buy some time. “I demand that you give him a trial.”
He shook his head. “My apologies, highness. The execution is scheduled for dawn. I expect you there.”
Igraine clenched her fists, fighting for composure. “I will not sit by and watch a travesty—”
“Yes, you will.” He leaned close enough for his breath to warm her cheek. “You are the future queen of Taura, are you not? You will see justice carried out in the king’s absence. You are an ambassador of the holy kirok. To avoid the execution would be snubbing your nose at those you claim to represent.”
The room spun and her leg still ached, but she gritted her teeth against the discomfort. Time. I need time. “You’re a bastard.”
“Be careful, your highness. I may be a bastard, but you answer to me until the king returns.” His mouth curved in a sneer. “If he returns.”
Her stomach plummeted, and she no longer trusted her legs. She put a hand on the chair. Braedan—I have to warn him. But how? She swallowed hard and inclined her head. “Good day, chancellor.”
He opened his door and gestured to one of the guards from Stone Coast. “My lady, you appear a bit pale. My guards will show you back to your rooms. You’ll need your rest before tomorrow.” He nodded to the man. “Take the lady to her rooms and be certain she stays there.”
Her mind raced. “You wouldn’t deny me my ladies, would you? And I need to speak with Cormac about some cases. He needs to know about the research I’ve done.” She put a hand on his chest and lowered her voice. “Please, Ronan.”
He hesitated. A muscle tightened in his jaw. “I have no objection to you meeting with Cormac, and I would never deny a highborn lady her maids.”
He counts on Cormac’s loyalty. But Logan says Cormac is unswervingly loyal to Braedan. Will Cormac help me, or has he joined Kerry?
By the time the guard ushered Cormac into
her study, Igraine had come up with a plan to help Logan and Braedan. If Cormac will help. She gestured to a seat and smiled at him. “I would stand, Cormac, but my leg requires rest.”
He sat. He had a bit more color to his face this day, and he wasn’t sweating as he had been. “Is your leg bothering you? I can send Felix up.”
She shook her head. “It’s healing well. I’ve always healed quickly.” She hesitated. How to approach this? I can’t trust him, but he’s the only hope I have of helping Logan. She bit her lip. “Where were you during the attack, Cormac?”
“I was here, my lady. In the castle. I was in my chambers.”
She leaned forward. “You weren’t. The guards couldn’t find you until they’d almost secured the castle. Where were you until then?”
He closed his eyes. “Please, highness—”
“Cormac, I don’t care what your proclivities are. If you were in a brothel or a venom den, fine. I just want to help Logan. He didn’t have those people killed. He was not the one who let the assassins into the castle walls. I don’t want to see him die for someone else’s crime.”
He said nothing for some time. He simply sat with his eyes closed, his breathing shallow, his face pale. “My lady.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “My lady, I don’t know how to help Logan. He confessed. His life is forfeit.”
Her stomach plummeted. “You can’t believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. It’s the law.”
“Then I hope you can serve Ronan Kerry as capably as you have served Braedan.”
His eyes snapped open. “What?”
“I’m convinced he has designs on the throne. Getting rid of Braedan’s most trusted guard is just one step.” She shrugged. “Follow the law and Kerry, or do what’s right. Your choice.”
He gritted his teeth. Color returned to his face. “I will not serve that man,” he said, low and lethal. “I will not. I will see my king’s throne secured.” He leaned forward. “Tell me what you would have me do, your highness.”
***
Igraine gave up on sleep long before the horizon began to lighten. She called her maids and dressed in dark, subdued colors, bundling herself in black fur and refusing any jewels. Fitting for an execution, she thought, surveying herself. “Fetch the guards,” she told Gwyn.
“My lady, won’t you eat?”
“No. I have no appetite.”
A guard from Stone Coast escorted her to the courtyard, where a small crowd of guards and soldiers had begun to gather. Anywhere Braedan’s men gathered, men from Stone Coast found some excuse to hover nearby or break them apart. Igraine’s mouth tightened. He will send Braedan’s men away one by one, unit by unit, until he has control of the castle. Then he’ll make his stand.
Word had spread that the king’s High Commander would be executed, and the lords and petitioners in the castle gathered in the pre-dawn light for the spectacle. In the center of the courtyard, a hooded figure leaned on his ax near a stained wooden block. Cormac stood near the castle doors, his hands twisting in front of him. He bowed to Igraine. “My lady.”
She let go of the guard’s arm and stepped close to Cormac. “Were you able to accomplish everything?” she asked in a low voice.
“Yes, highness. It wasn’t easy. Kerry has been watching me carefully since yesterday.” He dropped his voice even lower. “Duke Kerry has barred the castle gates. He refuses to let anyone but a few servants in and out, and those only after being searched. And he informed me yesterday that he will no longer allow me to correspond with the king unless he reads my messages first.”
Ire rose. “By what authority does he—”
“As chancellor, lady. He justifies himself by saying it is necessary for your safety and the safety of the lords and ladies within the castle.”
At least it keeps the crowd down to manageable limits. She straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin. “This isn’t over, Cormac. If this is the way Ronan Kerry will have it, then so be it.”
The castle doors opened, and Ronan walked onto the steps flanked by guards and various lords who hung on the chancellor’s every word. Lord Seannan and Lady Aislinn were in the group. Ronan approached Igraine. “A rather somber choice of colors, my lady, given that we execute the man who tried to ruin your efforts here in Taura.”
She lifted her chin toward Aislinn, who wore a deep red gown and gold jewels. “It would appear the lady Aislinn brought enough color for all of the ladies present at this obscene event,” she said. She stepped toward Aislinn. “Tell me, my lady: what did he promise you for your presence here? A crown?”
Aislinn’s cheeks flushed, and her father put himself between her and Igraine. “See here, your highness—”
“Forgive me,” Igraine said. “I wouldn’t wish to sully your daughter’s good name.” She turned her back and faced the wooden block. “I want his body,” Igraine said, low, to Ronan. “I want to see that it’s cared for properly.”
“The headsman will take care of it.”
She clenched her fists. “No, Ronan. As the only legitimate agent of the kirok in this castle, I will see to his proper burial.”
A long silence hovered around them. “Very well,” Ronan finally said. “As an act of goodwill, I will let you see to his burial.”
Igraine let out a long breath. I still have some small sway with him. I can’t squander it.
The sun crept toward the horizon, a slit of orange prying the night away from day. Ronan paced away from Igraine and back again. He motioned a guard toward him. “I told them to have him here at sunrise,” he said. “Find out where they are.”
Igraine’s heart raced. She squeezed her eyes shut. Please, Alshada.
The sun climbed higher. Murmurs flitted around the courtyard. Men from Stone Coast huddled together in conversation. Cormac and Igraine exchanged glances, and then Cormac bowed to Ronan. “My lord, perhaps I should see what’s keeping them?”
A muscle twitched in Ronan’s jaw. He started to nod, but a general clamor erupted from the guard towers, and three men from Stone Coast ran across the courtyard to Ronan. “My lord,” one said, bowing. “My lord. We don’t know how it’s possible. We can’t find Logan Mac Kendrick anywhere.”
Ronan’s face turned red with fury. “Escaped? How is this possible?”
Igraine’s heart raced. Make this convincing. “Is this some trickery? Did you do something with Logan in the night?”
Ronan whirled toward her, his mouth a grim, angry line. “Perhaps I should ask you the same, my lady.”
She gave him a thin smile. “When would I have had the time or ability? My lord kept me confined to my rooms all day yesterday.”
Ronan swore. He strode back and forth, fuming, one hand clenched on his sword, the other clenching and unclenching at his side. “What do you know?” he asked the guard.
“Not much, my lord. One of the royal guards was on duty. We found him tied up in the cell with a black eye. Mac Kendrick seems to have treated him mildly. We haven’t figured out how he escaped the castle.”
Ronan’s voice carried the cold fury of a man bent on vengeance. “Find this man. Now. I want him back here in irons by the week’s end. If you have to bring him back dead, so be it. I want his head on a spike at the Traitor’s Gate.”
“Yes, my lord.” The man bowed and left the room.
Ronan turned to Cormac. “What do you know of this?”
“Nothing, Lord Kerry. I thought he was guilty as well. I was prepared for an execution this morning.”
Ronan swore and paced. “The court will hear no petitioners today,” he said finally. “I will unleash the dogs and drag this coward back to face his crimes.” He returned to the castle in a fury.
One of the men from Stone Coast took Igraine’s arm and began to lead her back to her rooms. “Wait,” Cormac said. He took Igraine’s arm. “I’d like to escort the lady back to her rooms.”
The man bowed aside, and Cormac led Igraine through the castle doors. “He
has a letter for Braedan,” Cormac said, barely moving his lips as he spoke and keeping his eyes straight ahead. “With luck, the king and his men will return before winter sets in.”
Igraine nodded. “We have a long road.”
Later in the day, when Igraine sat in Braedan’s bed with her leg propped on pillows, Gwyn announced Repha Felix, and Igraine ushered him in. “Thank you for checking on me, but I don’t know what you can do,” she said. “It’s sore, but it’s healing well. It needs time, I’m thinking.”
He sat next to her and picked up her leg. “You may perhaps know the law, but I know healing,” he said, opening the bindings around her calf. He prodded the wound, frowning. “There’s barely more than a thin scar.”
“’Tis always this way for me,” she said. “I broke my ankle once. It mended in two weeks.”
Felix said nothing as he reapplied a poultice and bandage. He stood and took a book from the pocket of his long apron. “Some reading for you, your highness.”
She took the book. A History of the West, by Xinias zha Astr. “A book of history written by a Tal’Amuni?”
He inclined his head. “I thought you would find it interesting. If you read it carefully.”
She opened it with cautious fingers. The brittle parchment was worn and stained on the edges, but the ink was still dark inside. “‘The rending of the Brae Sidh people came at a great, but necessary, cost to the geography of the west. With the help of the Syrafi . . .’” Igraine looked up. “This is written in Amuni. How did you know that I speak it?”
“When I treated you in your chambers the night Matthias attacked you, I saw your pile of reference books. One was in Amuni.” He nodded toward the book and picked up his bag of supplies. “When you’ve finished it, perhaps we might speak again?”
She forced a smile. “Perhaps so. Thank you, Felix.”
He bowed and left.
Igraine leaned back against her pillows. Braedan, I will hold this place for you as long as I can, but I need you here. Hurry.
Ravenmarked (The Taurin Chronicles) Page 36